The butler did it
by Transient Turnip
Summary: Short story. The Butlers had enough of Croft. With the aid of Bertie the drunk all hell breaks loose.


The butler did it – Chapter 1

The sun shone in through the kitchen window above the sink, "Ugh, shitting sun" thought Jeeves to himself, "another bloody Sunday morning". He hated Sunday mornings, every week the same thing... up at 6, mind numbingly pointless tasks around the house till 12 and then that swine of a bent vicar around for Lunch every weekend without fail. He could only avoid these days when his master was out on one of her insane quests, he did enjoy those rare periods of laziness.

"She's gone off to shoot some rare animals" was all he'd say to the Vicar on those lucky Sundays. Every trip he'd hope she didn't come back but somehow she always managed it, always wielding another useless piece of crap which she'd hide somewhere in the house. He wouldn't mind, but he ad to clean the stuff, he was sick of wiping that lamp only to be chased down the corridor by that strange demon thing and he'd never get over the shock of when he was unpacking his masters backpack only to find a head-sized spider lurking within. At first he hadn't minded but that'd been years ago, now he was old and bitter, now he could be caught on a regular basis drowning puppies in the pool. He loathed his job but he knew no other, every day the

same, serving food, cleaning the huge mansion or wandering the garden only to be shot at by his pistol-wielding mistress, he was sick of it. Life under the original Crofts had been much better before this young floozy had inherited everything and today was Sunday, the worst day of them all. Another 24 hour slog into his bleak existence.

He heard the doorbell ring in the background, "Noo, not this early.." he moaned to himself. Leaning back, he looked at the big entrance doors across the hall. The bell rang again, "Not the Vicar, not at 9 O'Clock in the morning", he couldn't stand

his company for 3 more hours, it would be beyond endurance. Dashing through the kitchen he grabbed his hedge-clippers and apron and headed for the back garden. He thought to himself "I can hide in the back garden and feign deafness, I'm good at that, I'll lose myself in that bloody maze". Of course, he knew he WOULD actually lose himself, he always did, no matter how often he ploughed through the damned thing that he planted. He could never find his way from A to B without losing himself, but thats what the hedge-trimmers were for, he wasn't getting stuck there for 3 days and nights again. "of course, even this plan had it's drawbacks", he thought as he remembered the incident when hacking blindly through the hedge he had discovered that there was a pit on the other side, only to fall several metres onto the stone floor below, breaking a hip in the process. He would've died there and then he suspected had there not been enough mould and rainwater to sustain him he shuddered to himself as he opened the kitchen door. Once away the bell boomed hollowly in the background, "Who was this fool at the door", if they kept on like this they'd wake the old cow up, then he'd have no choice but to open the door, given that her windows was above the kitchen-garden doorway. The ball rang 3 times in rapid succession. "Hang on, I know that ring", thought Jeeves to himself, "No, it's Bertie, not on Sunday mornings, he knows the rule, once a week for the Friday night piss-up, never any other time".

Dropping the supplies he'd gathered, he sprinted with surprising speed for such an old man crossing the hallway in a few seconds and banging on the door. "All right, all right, keep your pants on!" He closed his eyes as a disturbing image of the last time he had answered the door for this particular friend flooded through his mind. "What do you want, its not Friday, is it?" He asked with a slightly doubtful note to his voice. "Nay mon,I have some news fer ye." Jeeves raised an eyebrow at this and allowed the obviously drunken Scotsman into the interior. "What is it then." He asked glancing up the stairs and at the door to his masters room. Bertie seeing this also looked up the stairs. "She still sleepin?" he said with an unusual sparkle in his one good eye. "Yes she is." Said Jeeves in his usual world weary voice. "Can I have a look?" Asked Bertie with an eager look. "No you bloody well can't, I might get the sack if she caught you." "You could just say that I overpowered you." Jeeves looked sceptically at the man before him, overpower me, that's a laugh. The drunken Scotsman before hi had only one good eye, a false leg and was renowned for his inability to walk more than five paces without falling down. "Yes, well I don't think it would go down too well with the management." "Come on, what's the worst that could happen, besides, what do you owe her?" At this Jeeves eyes opened wide and a small smile crept across his ancient face...

_Part 2 will be coming soon (I hope). Please read and review. **Constructive criticism** welcomed, other types will be ignored._


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